


new tricks

by devilishMendicant



Category: Doki Doki Literature Club! (Visual Novel)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Other, Petplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-12 03:22:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29253621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/devilishMendicant/pseuds/devilishMendicant
Summary: Sayori - well, Lucky - finds a surprise in her dog crate upon her return home.
Relationships: Monika/Sayori (Doki Doki Literature Club!)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 16





	new tricks

**Author's Note:**

> awoooooooooo.
> 
> (same universe as meow mix)

Sayori perks up when she sees the door to her crate has been left wide open. 

It’s a sturdy, dark-wooden thing that has no problems pulling double duty as a handsome piece of bedroom furnishing, and Monika and herself have come up with an ingenious (well, okay, mildly clever) way to signal whether  _ Lucky _ was invited out to play; leaving the door a bit unlatched meant puppy was free to visit. Of course, “a bit” could mean anything from “nudged the scantest inch from its frame” to “casually swung open half a foot” - it was really the fact that it was open that mattered.

And Sayori is  _ never _ one to pass up playing the part of the loyal dog, regardless the state of herself prior to strolling into the bedroom. 

The only bit of preparation she feels like today is her absolutely customary mussing-up of her (already rather unruly) hair, carelessly uncoupling her red-ribbon barrette and leaving it on Monika’s desk. If Monika wanted her prepared in any  _ other _ sort of way... then she’d just have to tell Lucky that when she saw her, plus or minus the clicker she’d picked up a month or so earlier. (A pleasant shiver rolls down Sayori’s back as she starts to rather hope Monika  _ does _ have the clicker.)

It’s  _ always _ been rather easy for Sayori to dip down into a more four-legged mindset; she had a great imagination and a deep-seated eagerness to please, and when you got right down to it that was about all the ingredients you needed to make a cute dog out of your girlfriend, wasn’t it? Lucky might have been a bit scruffier around the edges, but, well. She got to play in the dirt with all four paws, and Sayori only got the two, so it was sort of an inevitability. The game started once Lucky had, at the very least, de-bowed herself, gotten all down and used to her paws, and rested in her crate a bit until Master came to collect her.  _ Then _ the fun really began, although...

Lucky stretches  _ luxuriously _ across the carpet, letting out a growly little groan as something in her back pops  _ just _ right, and flops down unceremoniously onto her side.

She  _ did _ enjoy having the run of Master’s room to herself for just that little bit of time.

Dogs were pretty easy about a lot of things, and Lucky was pretty happy just to exist in the same room that Master denned in (nevermind that she even got her own little part of it!) every once in awhile. Once she got down here, it was so easy to appreciate it! The warmest, safest place in the whole house was Master’s den-room, for sure - she could feel her presence in every last little bit of it, smell her smell, probably even taste her taste, if she were the sort of dog that made a habit of licking blankets. Master was Lucky’s most  _ favorite _ person, and so it would follow that Master’s  _ den _ was her most favorite place to be, too.

She doesn’t spend  _ too _ long basking in it - she  _ was _ meant to be in her crate, after all, not necessarily rolling about on the carpet and sniffing around the laundry by the foot of the bed... she might be a bit of an airheaded pup at times, but she does remember Master’s rules and also Master’s very accurate aim with the cold-water spritzy bottle. It’s just that, you know, this laundry smells  _ so so much _ like Master and that’s more than a little tempting to a dog...

... as well as more than a little odd, because usually Master’s little laundry piles smelled a lot  _ less _ like her. Like they’d been laying on the ground in a heap and forgotten about for a day or few.  _ This _ laundry pile smelled significantly less-forgotten-about, and was even a bit  _ warm _ around Lucky’s curious nose. That was... odd, considering Lucky doesn’t recall seeing a clothesless Master lounging about on the bed or, er, anywhere else really.

Eventually deciding that whatever the cause of this mysterious anomaly was, Master would probably tell her if it was all that important, Lucky finally lets the confusing-though-pleasant little pile go and makes to trot over to her crate. Already rather anticipating snuggling into its soft, plush lining and maybe giving her favorite old chewy ring a good welcome-home bite or two, she rounds the corner of Master’s bed without thinking too much about what was laid out in front of her, and—

—almost trips over a foot sticking out from the inside of her crate.

Lucky freezes rather abruptly, bristling.

Was... was there someone else in her crate?

Well. Yes, clearly, of course there was. Who in the world would be inside Lucky’s crate? Nobody came into Master’s den-room without her  _ express _ permission, except - maybe the cats. Lucky narrows her eyes, hmmmph-ing with a pout. She’s  _ usually _ rather good about sharing the house with the cats, on the occasion they drop by, but Lucky’s crate was  _ not _ for sharing. She thought she’d made that obvious the last time she’d chased Cupcake away from it, and she had always suspected Primrose of deciding the old, overstuffed loveseat in the living room was better than Lucky’s crate for sleeping in anyway (though that was, of course, patently untrue and utter catlike nonsense). 

Growling a bit and dipping her head under the doorframe, she prepares to confront this mystery intruder—

And stops, abruptly, once again as she finally lays eyes on the  _ top _ half of the unknown interloper.

It’s... it’s  _ Master? _

It’s... the person Master is, at least. Same long, soft brown hair - now spilling all over the inside of Lucky’s crate, usual confining ribbon gone and forgotten somewhere. Maybe in the odd pile of clothes, Lucky realizes; because Master(?), she notices, is barely wearing  _ anything, _ as if she’s just gotten ready to bed down for the evening. Which... it seems that she’s done exactly, seeing her eyes closed, breath rising and falling deeply, and curled around one of Lucky’s most precious stuffed toys; one foot dangling outside the door of the crate.

Lucky blinks, utterly perplexed, and tries to think through the what and why and huh of what’s in front of her.

Starting... from most obvious, it looks like Master (or, most likely, the person that Master is) had decided to sleep in Lucky’s crate, that is, on purpose. She was, after all, unclothed to the standards of bedtime, and hugged around something soft and comfortable; all more or less necessary components of sleeping. Now,  _ why _ in the world she would have decided to sleep here... that’s a bit more braining than a big fluffy dog usually gets up to in a day, so, Sayori comes back to herself just a little to take a second swing at it.

She  _ had _ just come back from a short trip. There had been a problem with a colony of feral cats a few hours’ drive away, and the shelter had volunteered assistance; Sayori, with her natural animal affinity, had been that assistance. She’d only been away for two days, full sum - gone one night, stayed a full day, spent today driving back and gotten home in time for, er, night. Maybe it had been a poor two days for her Monika?

She hadn’t sounded off at all when Sayori had called her last night - and lord knows Monika wasn’t anywhere good enough at covering up hurt feelings to get it past her rather emotionally-resonant girlfriend - but maybe the daytime following it had been a real bother. Maybe it was the dog talking again, but, hey: her crate  _ was _ warm, soft, nice and dark and shut-in, and it did smell very thoroughly like Sayori, drenched in puppygirl right down to the nooks and crannies. She was often tempted to go hide in it herself, on her off days.

She’s just about talked herself into that explanation - that Monika’s had a low-battery day and missed her cutest, puppiest girlfriend in all the world so much that she’d decided to snuggle up in her cozy dog crate and call it a night just an hour or so too early for the real deal to cheer her up herself - when Monika, suddenly shuffling and sighing in that sleepy way the drowsing do, makes a noise.

A very familiar noise.

An absolutely unmistakable, utterly  _ puppyish _ whine. 

Sayori looks down suspiciously. Monika has insisted, many times before as the topic has come up, that she didn’t  _ have _ any kind of animal-instinct, no hidden sort of cat-or-dog-or-other-furry-friend side she’d been keeping from her very animally-inclined partners. She was just a good-old-fashioned owner type, she’d maintained. She liked having a dog, an on-and-off cat. 

And she  _ did, _ no bones about it - Sayori could sniff out a lie better than the four-legged friend she loved playing at being. That much was accurate. But Sayori had never quite been  _ fully _ satisfied with Monika’s adamant statement, in that way of wondering if, perhaps, milady doth protest too much. 

The pair of them  _ had _ gotten somewhere recently, albeit exploring somewhat different avenues of grown-up play pretend - Sayori had expected that  _ that _ was the one little (hee) sticking point she had been sensing in Monika, the question to the subtextual answer of  _ there  _ **_is_ ** _ something, yeah, but it’s too much to say, _ but...

Monika is curled up in  _ her _ dog crate, cheek snuggled in  _ her _ squeaky plush squirrel, and making  _ puppy noises _ in her dead-to-the-world slumber.

And Lucky has a deep-seated gut feeling that there’s  _ another dog _ sleeping in  _ her _ gosh darn bed. 

* * *

Sayori-and-Lucky consider what to do about this.

The both of them, together, since that seemed about right for the situation. She’s gone ahead and fastened herself up with her bright red collar; Monika was clearly not about to do it for her, and she  _ did _ want her doggy time, darnit. But she’s sitting on the people bed while she figures this one out.

Monika  _ is _ just about her favorite person in the universe.  _ If _ Monika really is another dog, Lucky (and Sayori) wouldn’t mind sharing the run of the house, not  _ really; _ she’s already letting the cats run amok in here, for dog’s sake, another canine would be more a blessing than anything else. 

But given how tentative Monika’s been about the  _ other _ thing, it’s possible that this is a mildly private sort of experimentation that Sayori has walked in on. Would Monika be spooked out of playing dog with her girlfriend if Sayori... said anything about it? Maybe she would be embarrassed that Sayori found her down there; maybe falling asleep wasn’t part of her plan at all. Hell, maybe Sayori’s reading way too far into it and Monika has an incredibly convoluted though somehow utterly truthful wild story as to how she ended up sleeping in her girlfriend’s person-sized doggy crate in her underwear. (Hugging a squeaky squirrel.)

Sayori-and-Lucky think. They think a lot. They go this way, then that way; one way then the other then right back again. It is a long, meandering walk the likes of which were undeniably doggish, no matter which way you spun it - in fact, Sayori thinks she’s been on a walk like that at least once before in a particularly remote patch of woods.

In the end, though, their conclusion leads them right back to where they’d been before - crawling into a dog crate, staring down at a half-snoring puppydog(?). Neither of them have ever been particularly good at subterfuge; it’s a taxing sport, and one that often has pretty comparable results to just diving in snoutfirst and seeing where that takes you.

So, Lucky leans down, snuffles friendly-like at her surprise bedmate’s neck (yup; still her  _ very _ favorite smell in all the world) - and licks her on the cheek.

_... whhrrn? _

That  _ is _ a doggy noise. That is a  _ very _ doggy noise, a noise that could even be described - once again - as  _ puppyish _ in its pitch and tone. That is the kind of sound a confused puppy makes when it was very comfortable sleeping and is being suddenly called from the land of the living.

So, naturally, Lucky leaves another lick. And another. And another, and one more - each sloppy doggy kiss drawing another whimpery, confused pup-noise from the new, sleepy puppy (whom she is very quickly finding a powerful urge to call  _ hers). _ Lucky is honestly beginning to doubt that licking is going to wake her up, before bleary green eyes crack open - hoarse half-bark escaping a drowsy throat.

Lucky beams. 

There  _ is _ a puppy in her bed.

One that’s still mostly asleep, it seems - puppy squints, looking Lucky up and down a few times before getting rather mesmerized by the swing of her collar tags that are, to be fair, dangling right down into her face. Maybe she’s trying to read them, but... dogs don’t read; owners do. Dogs can know what collar tags  _ say, _ eventually, but that’s because owners tell them so much it becomes impossible to forget. 

Either way, the pup’s dead tired; the dazed blink she gives her once Lucky angles her collar away confirms it. She’ll just have to bed down  _ around _ the poor thing, she thinks. No use trying to nip her up and out of bed for a dogs-eye walk around the house when she can hardly lift her head - it’s a good thing that Lucky’s Master saw fit to train her to do just about any old trick she could think of, because she’s got to get herself ready for bed tonight. 

Not too big of a problem. She nips (gently) at the puppy’s errant heel until she gets the message, clumsily drawing her paw back up into the enclosement of Lucky’s crate. Satisfied, Lucky goes ahead to find what she needs for this spot-trick; a blanket from the room the person who Lucky is occupies. Dogs were pretty good at sleeping without blankets, but puppies (of which the surprise in Lucky’s crate certainly  _ is) _ wake up much better rested with them than without, and this does seem to be the scent said puppy favors.

Dragging that back into the master’s den-room with her, Lucky pauses by the door to jump up and turn off the overhead light. No good to sleep with it on, even though the crate did a decent job of blocking it out. She can hear a mournful little yelp from her crate as she does so, though, so she hurries through her final trick of the night - shuffling off her un-doglike outer layers. It’s quite a feat, for a four-legger, but she’s done more impressive with less pressing matters keeping her time; and in two wags of a tail, she’s back to her comfy den, pulling the blanket right in along with her as she pulls the door (mostly) shut. 

Puppy calms down quite a lot once she’s back inside, lets out a wonderfully content shiver all down through her paws as Lucky curls up against her, settling the blanket over them. The poor pup was  _ definitely _ cold, but there’s another, happier reason for the trembling Lucky feels pressed up into her neck, her chest, up against her legs. Cupcake shivered like this too, the first few times Lucky offered herself up as a naptime partner; pups and kits just  _ quiver _ when they snuggle like this, quiet and intimate and trusting and comfortable. Lucky’s seen the shivers when Primrose shares tongues with the kit, and Lucky isn’t surprised to see the shivers as she beds down with the new puppy. Something about being so completely  _ soothed _ like this, warmed and protected and  _ deeply _ so, just turns them right into puppy-kitten jello until they drift off—

(And all this is quite a lot to say that Lucky is  _ very _ enamored with her trembling, clingy denmate - more than enough to nuzzle, kiss, and rumble her right back to sleep.)

(Which she does, happily.)


End file.
